


From Whence You Came

by Sanalith



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanalith/pseuds/Sanalith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabelle French has everything a girl could ask for, until an unexpected tragedy strikes. Now a hotel maid struggling to make rent and pay hospital bills, Belle encounters a guest from abroad who changes her life once again. Rumbelle modern-day AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Whence You Came

Sometimes – really, a whole _lot_ of times – life simply wasn’t fair. Bad things seemed to happen to good people a hell of a lot more than the other way around, and there didn’t seem to be much anyone could do about it. And when those bad things happened, the good people of the world seemed to deal with it in two very different ways. Some whined and complained and purchased fainting couches onto which they could dramatically fall and mourn their completely undeserved fate. The others hardened their hearts and kept living their lives the best they could, moving forward with determination if not true happiness, and shed tears only when they were alone in their bedrooms at night.

Isabelle French prided herself on being part of the second category. Although she really _would_ have liked to own a fainting couch. It would have brightened up her apartment considerably.

Five years ago she’d had the best life she could possibly imagine. She was at the top of her class in one of the most exclusive high schools in the country, she’d just finishing applying to a plethora of ivy league universities, she was surrounded by amazing friends, had been dating a handsome boyfriend for two years, and – most importantly – she was the center of the world to her adoring parents. 

And then came the car crash that stole her mother away forever and the following stroke that might as well have taken her father. 

It’s amazing how fast priorities can rearrange themselves. 

The funeral bills were astronomical and the medical bills were worse. Belle had no extended family to speak of, her friends were busy with college preparations, her boyfriend Gaston “regretfully” discovered he was no longer in love with her, and with her mother gone and her father paralyzed from the waist up and unable to speak coherently, everything fell to her to organize. She was the smartest eighteen-year-old she knew – and that was saying something, considering her classmates – but even she could only make a finite amount of money go so far.

College was completely out of the question. Even with the scholarships her grades guaranteed and the government assistance her family situation would have granted, there was no way she could leave her father. He might not be able to move well, but his mind was still clear enough to recognize her, and doctors still had hope for at least a partial recovery that might allow him to one day return home. 

Unfortunately, that left Belle stuck in the tiny town of Storbrooke, Maine, which met every definition of quaint but little else. Its only upside was a consistent tourist population, mainly couples lured by the “charming seaside romance” the area boasted. The town was peppered with tiny bed and breakfast nooks, which Belle once would have indeed found charming but now appeared overly cloying, not to mention sickeningly sweet. Luckily, there was one proper hotel in the town, run by the sharp businesswoman Selene Lucas. When home from school on holidays, Belle had often visited with her granddaughter, Ruby, who oversaw the hotel’s bar and lounge, and it was to Ruby Belle went with a heavy heart to beg for a job.

Granny Lucas – for everyone called her that – wasn’t known for giving in to sob stories, but she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the bright young woman who’d lost her entire life in one horrible moment. Normally, Belle would have rebelled against being pitied, but if it got her a job and allowed her to stay in her family home and visit her father daily, she’d take it. In truth, Granny had no job openings at the time, but hotels could always use extra maids, and Belle was the most meticulous person she’d ever met. A job was a job, and Belle accepted gratefully.

All things considered, it wasn’t a bad life. Belle’s friendship with Ruby strengthened, she became close with two of the other maids, Mary Margaret and Ashley, and Granny always made sure she was off of work in time to see her father before visiting hours ended at the hospital.

But life still wasn’t fair, and as hard as Belle tried to fight it, she couldn’t pretend to think otherwise. And the feeling was always worst when the international travelers arrived.

Storybrooke didn’t see many guests from abroad, but when they did come, Belle’s depression asserted itself with a vengeance. Of all the plans she’d made for her future, the ones she most regretted losing involved travel. She wanted to study abroad for at least a year, maybe even two, while at university. At the age of 10, her parents had purchased her a giant world map that nearly covered an entire wall of her bedroom, and she began placing pins in every country she wanted to visit.

It might have been easier to pin the few she _didn’t_ want to see.

But travel was completely out of the question for the foreseeable future, and though Belle was resigned to it, the idea of never seeing the world made her heart ache. Just listening to the accents of her international guests made her want to weep. She was simply thankful they didn’t come often.

Today, however, was clearly not her lucky day. Belle was punching in for her afternoon shift as Granny was welcoming a new guest, and the thick Scottish burr she heard in response was like a punch to the stomach.

Scotland. Full of castles and mountains and _history_. How she’d longed to walk the battlefield of Culloden, to visit Edinburgh Castle and attend the world famous Military Tattoo.

Well. It was never going to happen now, so she might as well get along with her life and deal with it.

Shaking her head, Belle returned her attention to the new arrival. Despite presumably just exiting a trans-continental flight, he was groomed impeccably in a three-piece suit, not a hair out of place. He leaned somewhat heavily on a gold-topped cane, but otherwise appeared in perfect health. Belle raised an eyebrow when she heard Granny confirm his lodgings in the penthouse, handing over his keycard. The suite was hardly ever rented, but his attire suggested he could afford it. He gave her a brief nod of thanks, refused her tactful offer of assistance with his bags, and made his way toward the elevator.

When he was gone, Belle inched her way over to Granny, who glanced up briefly from her computer. “Riordan Gold,” she said briskly. “He’ll be with us for five nights. He stayed with us once before your time, and he’s _very_ particular about his rooms. Likes everything pristine but hates if anything he leaves out is moved an inch, so be careful. You and Ashley are the sharpest tacks in my tool chest, so you’ll be taking turns. She’s out tomorrow so you’ll have first watch.”

Belle nodded her understanding and Granny returned her concentration to her computer, but inside she couldn’t contain her curiosity. She’d had her share of finicky guests, of course, but it sounded like this Mr. Gold was going to be even more of a challenge than normal.

A slight smile touched her lips. If there was anything that could get her out of her depressed funk, it was a challenge.

**************  
The way Granny emphasized Gold’s dislike of any of his possessions being moved around, Belle expected the room to be a complete mess when she entered late the next morning to clean. He’d departed the hotel extremely early, but Belle had saved his room for last on her rounds in order to make sure she could give her entire concentration to it. She had pictured his suitcases thrown open and clothing strewn about, perhaps a laptop with cords running every which way for her to trip across. Instead, she entered a nearly pristine room that hardly looked like anyone had even entered it, much less slept in it.

Gold had brought two suitcases with him, along with a laptop bag, all of which were piled carefully in one corner of the room. Several suits hung in the closet, but no sign of any other clothing was present. The bathroom looked slightly more lived-in, with the sink boasting a used toothbrush, razor and shaving cream, but even they were placed neatly. Two wet towels sat in one corner of the bathtub, presumably used in a morning shower. The only _almost_ messy area was a small table in one corner of the room, where he’d clearly eaten a room service-delivered breakfast. A small plate with toast crumbs was set next to an empty teapot and cup, but even that seemed to be arranged to take up the smallest amount of space possible.

Belle shook her head, confused. What had Granny been so worried about? There was practically nothing to clean, and she could hardly move things out of place if she tried! Perhaps he became sloppier as time went on?

Shrugging away her thoughts, Belle got to work. She was still careful to leave the room sparkling, spending more time scrubbing the sink and pulling the bedclothes to perfect corners than normal, and she was careful not to move the few things Gold had deigned to leave visible. She replaced the used towels with the fluffiest ones she could find, and pumped the pillows a bit more than was necessary. Admiring her handiwork, Belle began rolling her cleaning cart out into the hallway, pausing only to remove the breakfast tableware, when her eyes caught on something perched at the edge of the table.

It was a book of poetry by Robert Burns, the Scottish Bard, and what a book! Leather-bound and gold-leafed, it was positively pristine. Without meaning to, she reached out and stroked the spine, her fingers getting that odd tingling feeling they always acquired when she became unaccountably excited.

Belle had never specifically missed having money, not in terms of the material goods it brought, but she did often miss the _time_ that wealth and security had provided. In her old life, when her studies were concluded for the day, her time had been her own to use as she chose, and more often than not she chose to spend it curled up with a good book. Now, time was marked by the hours she spent at the hotel, the hours set aside for her father, and the never-ending chores at home. And even if she did have time to spare, what would she use it for? Granny made sure her job paid the bills, but there was precious little else to go around, so even small things like new books had become luxuries. 

And oh, how she missed those books.

Hours – days – even weeks later – Belle still had no idea what in the world came over her. Perhaps it was the double longing for the written word and the knowledge it came from aboard, from a country she’d always wanted so desperately to see. It was still no excuse, but it was, perhaps, as good an explanation as any.

It was either that or bodily possession, and Belle couldn’t quite bring herself to say the aliens made her do it.

Whatever the cause, Belle found herself sitting down at the table, wiping her hands clean on a nearby rag, and reaching, with trembling fingers, to open the precious book.

It was wrong on so many levels. She was reading on the job, she was using something that didn’t belong to her, and she was doing all this in the room of a man who hated his personal possessions to be touched. But the book called to her, and she simply couldn’t ignore it. Not even when she opened the first page and saw writing in a looping, elegant script, dedicating the book to its new owner:

“To Bae, so you may never forget from whence you came. All my love, Papa.”

To add to her myriad of sins, she was now perusing a gift. Perfect.

Despite all this, Belle could not stop, could not ignore the siren song of the beautiful written word. She loved Burns with a passion, had fallen for him in her advanced English class her sophomore year. Though a lover of all forms of writing, Belle had always been rather particular about poetry, finding much of it over the top and droll. But who could not get chills from "Auld Lang Syne" or feel a skipping beat in the heart at the last stanza to “A Red, Red Rose?” As so often happened when she read, Belle felt herself slipping away into another world, the room around her fading until nothing existed but the paper beneath her fingers, the black ink of the words, the visions of beauty in her mind….

….the sudden tapping of a cane on the tiled floor….

“Having a bit of a break, are we, dearie?”

_Ohhhhhhshiiiiiiii……_

Between being startled out of her dreamy visions and the flood of adrenaline that pumped through her veins at the sound of his voice – not to mention to sickening feeling of guilt for touching his precious book and the abject terror that she was going to get fired – Belle acted on pure instinct. She slammed the book shut, pushed back her chair with a loud scrap against the floor, and whirled around to face her accuser – perhaps prostrate herself on the floor and beg for forgiveness – when her elbow hit the china tea cup she’d never gotten around to collecting and knocked it to the floor.

Well, at least it was empty.

“M..Mr…Mr. Gold.” Her breath seemed frozen in her lungs, her heart beating so fast she wondered why it wasn’t pounding out of her chest. “I…I am so…so very…very…”

He held up a hand, looking at her with a blank expression. “Very sorry, yes, yes, I’m sure you are. That doesn’t exactly help matters though, now does it?”

Belle gulped. “N..No, Sir. Not at all. But I still…I still am so very…very sorry. I don’t know why…I don’t know what came over me…”

“Hmmm.” Slowly, he began circling her, his cane taping loudly on the tiles in the silence. “It is rather curious,” he admitted, when he completed his circuit. “This certainly isn’t the first time I’ve walked in on housekeeping in various hotels, doing something they shouldn’t be. But this _is_ the first time I’ve caught anyone reading.” He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Why is that, I wonder?”

Belle shook her head helplessly, unsure what answer would placate him most and unable to think of one in any case. “P…please, sir, I promise I meant no harm, I _swear_ it! The book…it was just so beautiful and perfect and just sitting there and…and…” Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I’m so very, very sorry,” she whispered again, not knowing what else to say. Her fate was sealed, in any case.

Gold starred at her for almost a full minute, his eyes boring into hers as though he could see into her mind, perhaps into her very soul. Belle tried lowering her eyes, hoping to seem meek and apologetic instead of challenging, but the minute she bowed her head he reached out and cupped her chin in his hand, tiling her head back up to meet his gaze.

She had no idea if he saw what he wanted, but he released her a moment later and jerked his head in the direction of the door.

“Go.”

Belle fled immediately.

She felt like a coward, running away when there was clearly still so much to be said, but she had no words and her heart still felt like a sledgehammer, and she was more scared than she’d been since her father’s stroke.

If he told Granny, she was done. Ruby would raise hell at her friend being fired, but Granny was a businesswoman first and foremost. She couldn’t and wouldn’t pay staff who spent their time reading in their most expensive guest room and antagonizing their most particular patron. And without this job, how would she pay for her father’s bills and the rent on her home?

For the first time in five years, Belle felt tears well up in her eyes during daylight hours.

The ball was in Riordan Gold’s court, and she had absolutely no idea what sort of game he played. All she could do was wait…and hope.

****************

Belle didn’t see Gold for the rest of the afternoon, and thankfully it was Ashley’s turn to clean his room the following day. She wondered if she could somehow bargain with the other girl to trade for his entire stay. The way she figured, her best – perhaps only – shot of keeping her job was to stay out of his sight for the week. She couldn’t imagine him just forgetting the whole escapade, but maybe he’d live and let live if she did nothing to antagonize him further?

Unfortunately, she didn’t get the chance to find out. She was talking with Granny at the check-in desk when Gold entered the lobby, and Belle felt her heart freeze. His eyes were already locked onto hers, and there was no place to run or hide.

The game was over before she’d even had a chance to play.

“Ah, Mrs. Lucas, Miss French. How perfect. I was hoping I could have a moment with both of you.”

Granny raised an eyebrow. “Of course, Mr. Gold. Can we help you with something?”

“Yes, indeed.” Gold folded his hands over his cane. “Yesterday, I came into my room to find Miss French performing her cleaning duties. Today, I discovered a different person, a Miss Boyd, if I’m not mistaken.”

Granny inclined her head. “Yes, sir. I apologize if their timing was inconvenient for you. If you’d care to specify a particular time___”

Gold waved his hand. “Oh no, dearie, that’s not why I’m here.” Glancing up at Belle, he gave a smile, and her heart skipped a beat. “It’s simply that I would prefer Miss French be the only person to attend me.”

Belle felt her jaw drop before she could stop it. “M..me?” she demanded inanely. “But...” She shook her head, unable to finish. Of all the possible scenarios she’d imagined, this outcome was not even close to any of them!

Granny frowned. “If Miss Boyd has done something to offend you___”

“Not at all, not at all,” Gold assured her. “She was quite professional. Clearly a hard-working young lady.” He smiled once again. “It’s simply that I prefer Miss French’s style of…care. She takes a deep interest in items that would easily slip past another person, no matter how diligent.”

“Ah, yes indeed.” Granny gave Belle an approving smile. “She’s the most meticulous worker I’ve ever had, that’s for sure and certain. I’m sure she’d be delighted to assist you in any way possible.”

“I…errr…yes, of course, Mr. Gold.” Belle forced herself to meet his intense gaze. “Whatever you need, please feel free to ask and I’ll attend to it.”

“Marvelous.” Gold inclined his head. “In that case, perhaps establishing a routine isn’t out of the question. The timing of your last housekeeping was perfect. I’ll expect you at the same hour tomorrow.”

Belle could only nod, and with a glance at Granny, Gold turned toward the elevator, his cane tapping rhythmically on the tiles.

When he was out of hearing range, Granny rounded on her. “I don’t know what you did, girl, but whatever it is, you keep it up, do you hear? I told you he was particular, and you’ve clearly impressed him, so let’s keep it that way!”

Belle’s mind was whirling, and she hardly kept her composure long enough to promise she’d continue to do her best to please their guest. She went through the rest of her day like a robot, wondering what in the world Gold meant by doing this. Was it some sort of hidden torture? Would he pretend to get on her good side and praise her to Granny, only to express his displeasure on his final day? Or perhaps he simply wanted to make her as uncomfortable as possible as punishment? She couldn’t even begin to fathom his motives!

She slept poorly that night and had half a mind to see if she could get away with calling in sick for the rest of the week, but Belle had never run away from a challenge before and she wasn’t going to start now. When she found herself in front of the penthouse door, she took a deep breath and steeled herself.

Do the brave thing and bravery will follow. 

She knocked on the door, unsurprised when Gold answered. She’d come prepared to clean, but somehow she’d known that wasn’t what he was really after.

“Miss French.” He smiled his gamine grin. “Do come in.”

Since his was the only room on the floor, she left her cleaning cart in the hall, knowing it wouldn’t be in the way, and tensely followed him inside. He lowered himself into one of the room’s comfortable couches and gestured to a nearby chair. “Please, sit.”

Belle did as she was told, her spine straight and hardly brushing the back of her seat. She felt her hands trembling ever so slightly, so she folded them tightly in her lap.

Gold leaned back on the couch and simply starred at her for almost a full minute, his eyes sweeping across her face, her torso, her legs, all the way down to her feet, and then back up again, as though taking the measure of her. She wondered fleetingly what he saw. A maid? A woman? His prey, to toy with before chewing up and spitting out?

“I suppose you wondered why I asked for you,” he said finally, crossing his arms over his chest.

Belle felt herself nod. “I thought…I thought you were going to tell Mrs. Lucas…what I did.” Her voice cracked. “I thought you’d want me fired.”

“Mmmmm.” Gold looked at her intently. “Do you know why I didn’t?”

“I…no, I don’t.” She licked her lips. “I was sitting on the job, I was touching your personal items…a gift of all things! Why wouldn’t you complain to her?”

“For one simple reason, dearie.” He leaned forward. “Do you remember me telling you that I’d seen housekeeping staff goofing off in my rooms before, but I’d never once seen one reading?” Belle nodded, and he shrugged an elegant shoulder. “You surprised me, Miss French, plain and simple. And after all these years, after all the places I’ve been and all the people I’ve seen, precious little surprises me. It’s something I felt needed to be rewarded.”

For the second time, Belle felt her jaw drop. “That’s…it? I surprised you, and you liked it, and that was it?”

Gold laughed. “For me, it’s as good a reason as any.” He gestured to the book, which was still on the side table. “As you noted, the book is a gift, for my son. He lives with my ex-wife, but he was born in Scotland, and spent the first few years of his childhood there. I didn’t wish him to forget his roots.” He paused. “But I have no idea if he’ll actually read it, much less enjoy it. It was…agreeable to see someone taking such obviously pleasure in it, even if it wasn’t the person for whom it was intended.”

“Oh!” Belle shook her head vehemently. “But I can’t imagine your son not liking it! I can’t imagine _anyone_ not falling in love with Burns. Who couldn’t get swept up in the beauty, the emotion, the lyricism, the___”

Belle stopped immediately, realizing her impassioned speech had not been called for in the slightest, and she ducked her head. “I’m sorry, I…I don’t know what came over me. Then or now.”

“It’s no matter.”

Belle jerked her head up. “But it _is_!” she protested. “I shouldn’t have touched it! You should be furious at me! Why aren’t you?”

Gold steepled his fingers together. “When I came upon you reading,” he said slowly, “there was an intensity in your expression I’ve rarely seen on anyone. You were so caught up in it, you didn’t even hear the door. You looked like a starved woman devouring the first steak you’d seen in years.” He tilted his head. “Tell me, dearie. Why is that?”

Belle looked away, not able to meet his eyes. “I just…I love books,” she replied lamely. “That’s all.”

“Clearly not.” Gold’s voice hardened ever so slightly. “You think I ought to be upset with you, that you should be reported to Mrs. Lucas. Tell me why you were so enthralled with the book, and I’ll consider it just payment.”

Her heart clenched in her chest. “You don’t want to hear a sob story from a stranger.”

“Ahhh, but I happen to be a connoisseur of such tales.” His voice lowered. “I’ve always known how to recognize a desperate soul, you see, and you were reading as though you’d never see a book again. I want to know why. Tell me and we’ll call it even.”

Belle wanted to protest again, but he was clearly not going to give up, and if this was the only way to keep her job…well, so be it.

Slowly, haltingly, she told him her story. She was halfway through before the tears started falling. Even after so many years, the pain was still fresh. She knew it didn’t help that she hardly ever talked about it, even with those closest to her. Even telling Ruby was a struggle, and the girl had shown her nothing but kindness. Telling a complete stranger should have been much worse. And yet…there was a strange catharsis to it. He listened silently, his expression never wavering, and for some reason, his eyes gave her courage.

“It’s not that I never see books anymore,” she concluded, twisting her hands around the shredded tissue she’d pulled from her pocket. “It’s just that…reading for pleasure was part of my old life. I don’t have time for it now. I feel guilty when I just sit, knowing I could be visiting with my father or going over the finances, or even picking up extra hours here.” She shrugged helplessly. “And the book was just there, all beautiful and perfect, and for one moment, I felt like I was back in that old world…and I just couldn’t help myself.” She gave him a small, watery smile. “It’s foolish, I know, to pine for such small things. But there you have it.”

The room was full of silence for another moment, and finally Gold let out a breath Belle hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“I’m sorry for the loss of your mother,” he said, his voice oddly formal, “and I hope your father makes as full a recovery as possible. I’m sure the doctors are doing their best.”

“Thank you.” Belle tilted her head in surprise. “It’s kind of you to say, considering you hardly know me and have certainly never met either of them.”

Gold shrugged. “Common courtesy, dearie.”

“I suppose.” She hesitated. “So. Now you know my story. What are you going to do with it?”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, and his eyes grew slightly darker as he gazed at her, but then his expression cleared and he waved a hand dismissively. “We had a deal, if you recall. Your story for my silence on the subject. Consider your debt paid.”

Belle frowned. It seemed too easy, but somehow Gold didn’t seem the type to lie. “So…I’m free to go?”

“You did agree to tend to the room for the rest of my visit,” he reminded her. “I’ll hold you to that, if you please. But otherwise, yes. Consider your employment secure.”

Belle shook her head. “I honestly don’t know what to say, Mr. Gold…other than thank you. I know I’ve said it many times already, but I _am_ sorry, and I promise I’ll behave in nothing less than a professional manner during the rest of your stay.”

Gold chuckled, almost a little darkly. “We should never pretend to be anything other than what we are, dearie,” he informed her quietly. “Continue as you are. It’ll go easier for both of us that way.”

*********  
Belle didn’t see much of Gold for the rest of his stay. They occasionally came upon one another in the lobby, and he mentioned once to Granny in her hearing that she was doing a fine job and was inordinately pleased with her services, causing Granny to give her a hidden thumbs-up. She returned to his room at the same time every day to clean, but he was never there again, and she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. She was still embarrassed by the story she’d been forced to tell, but he’d never once made her feel bad about it, so perhaps he truly didn’t judge her.

She did see him as he was checking out, promising to return to the hotel the next time he was in the area, and he inclined his head when she approached to wish him a safe journey.

“Thank you once again for your impeccable services, Miss French. While I hope your gifted intellect allows you to pursue other career opportunities in the future, be assured that I will be requesting your services again should you still be here when I return.”

Belle offered him a small smile, and she nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Gold. I look forward to having you visit us again soon.”

After his departure, Belle trotted back up to the penthouse, intent on cleaning it immediately. Whether it was because she wanted to be in _his_ space one last time, or because she wanted the whole sorry mess out of her mind, she couldn’t say.

And then she entered the room, her eyes – as always – automatically going to the side table where the book was, and she felt her heart nearly stop.

The book now occupying the table was nowhere near as fine as the one for Gold’s son, but in some ways, it was even more beautiful to Belle. The spine was heavily creased and there was a small tear in the corner of the cover, testaments to heavy use. The pages were unmarked but slightly discolored. The book had clearly been read many, many times over the course of its long life. 

Hesitantly, Belle reached out and picked it up. It was a much earlier publication of the same book of poetry, and when she gently opened the cover, she saw a bookplate on the inside that caused her throat to close.

_From the personal library of Riordan Gold_

A slip of paper fluttered to the table when she picked up the book, and with trembling fingers, Belle read it. Her throat nearly closed with the effort of holding back tears as she read a clear echo of the inscription from the gift to his son.

“So you may never forget from whence you came.”

Belle didn’t even try to stop the tears from flowing.

He was a complete enigma. He lived halfway around the world. They’d hardly spoken for more than an hour together. She’d would more than likely never see him again. 

And yet Belle knew without question that she was completely, irrevocably, hopelessly in love with him.

She was doomed.


End file.
